


Before You Know It

by prototyping



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, decided to try something new, platonic, post-kh3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-13 23:55:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7990999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prototyping/pseuds/prototyping
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time she notices, it’s almost too subtle to tell. Aqua + Ventus, post-KH3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before You Know It

The first time she notices, it’s almost too subtle to tell.

A usual morning over the usual breakfast, the usual half-conversation with Terra at the table as he struggles to wake up over a cup of tea -- it’s all familiar. It’s normal. It’s unchanged, somehow, despite the unbelievable number of years that once passed without this scene. Despite the castle around them that’s the same but also different. Despite the number of new scars on their bodies and hearts.

It’s not quite the same, but it’s close enough, and the last few months of falling back into that rhythm mean more to Aqua than she could ever express. That’s why she’s quick to notice the difference when Ven comes bounding into the kitchen and over to the stove, already coiled with more energy than she and Terra combined.

“Morning!” he announces. He shoots them both a grin before helping himself to the steaming mug that’s already waiting for him. Beyond a grunt of greeting, Terra doesn’t seem to notice -- but Aqua does a doubletake, tilting her head curiously.

“That’s a new look,” she observes, giving Ven a studious once-over. Besides the harness around his chest and the spaulder on his shoulder, she doesn’t recognize any of his clothes. His pants are ankle-length and he’s donning a quarter-sleeved white and silver top. “What happened to your jacket?”

“Oh, that? It was gettin’ kinda small.” With a smooth about-face he leans back against the counter, stirring the usual, questionable amount of sugar into his tea.

Aqua frowns lightly. She didn’t notice -- not that it’s a big deal. Now sixteen, Ven probably has a lot of growing to look forward to. With a hum she shakes the look away to trade it for a warm one. “Well, you look really nice, Ven. Good choice.”

Sixteen or not, he looks as pleased by a compliment as he did at eleven.

* * *

The second sign comes gradually -- a series, rather, a trail of small things that build on one another over the following months.

Even now, as Masters, the three of them still train together often, honing their skills further even though they have to hold back most of their true power these days. Aqua’s sitting on the sidelines, her own Keyblade in the grass beside her as she watches Terra and Ven trade blows. It’s been a long day, prompting them to forego the use of magic in favor of plain strength, but the exchange is no less intense. At times they’re a blur of steel and speed, at others they’re a collision of force and sound that lingers for only a second before they part again. They still chat and banter and tease, but unlike in the past, there’s nothing being taught here. The benign brutality behind their strikes is confident, unique to each fighter with both of them comfortably set in their ways. This isn’t a lesson -- it’s a method of sharpening what they already know well.

Terra doesn’t go easy on him anymore, no easier than he is on Aqua, and Ven’s done nothing less than flourish under the challenge. When sparring with others -- Sora, Roxas, even Aqua herself -- Ven’s fighting style is more relaxed, challenging but casual, always ready to stop at a moment’s notice.

Against Terra, he nearly goes all out.

Maybe he’s that confident in Terra’s ability. Maybe he figures Terra just knows his moves so well that serious injury isn’t a threat. Or maybe it’s something else, maybe he puts his all into these matches because he’s still hoping to actually, truly beat Terra one day. Whatever Ven’s reasons, these moments are among the few where his true ability -- his true _nature_ is visible, if only in glimpses.

He’s all but abandoned the concept of blocking attacks. Instead he’s always _moving_ , dodging in defense or lunging in offense or darting about to remain a difficult target. Half the time he doesn’t move as much as he seems to disappear and reappear somewhere else. Even Aqua, as often as she’s watched him, has yet to decipher a pattern or pinpoint an indication of when and where he’s going to dash.

And he’s stronger. He’s so much stronger than in those days gone by. At fifteen, intercepting a two-handed blow from Terra and holding his ground was a daring dream at best. Contending in a stalemate of crossed blades, a show of nothing more than raw strength, probably never occurred to him. And a well-timed shift of his weight, a calculated twist of his weapon, forcing Terra to his knee as his own strength is briefly turned against him -- the boy Aqua knew could never manage it.

And yet she watches Ven do all of this in the blink of an eye.

And then there are those moments, those fleeting glimpses, when he recovers from swing or a landing and he’s not quite standing straight yet, an instant where he’s holding his Keyblade overhand and his left arm reaches out for balance, shoulders hunched and feet planted firmly and broadly apart--

\--and then it’s over, past, and Aqua wonders again if she imagined the similarity.

* * *

The third time doesn’t come around for a while, but it’s more obvious when it does. As she and Ven are taking the long way back to the castle one evening, they follow the usual stream that winds around the base of the mountain and cuts through the well-known underbrush. There’s a certain place where the water gets low enough to wade in, and on hot nights like these they remove their shoes to walk through the cool current. The stream leads them around a few turns before crossing under a small stone bridge -- and for years she and Terra would have to duck to pass beneath it while Ven could walk right through with a good foot to spare above his head.

So when he _does_ have to stoop this time, Aqua sloshes to a surprised stop.

When did he get so tall?

Noticing her silence, Ven glances back and shoots her an easy smile. “You comin’?” He holds out a hand -- ironic, because in the months following his arrival all those years ago, she would always offer hers to guide him safely through the slippery footing.

She recovers and returns the smile, taking that hand in a gentle grip to let him lead this time. The skin of his palms is more like Terra’s now, calloused and rough -- and unlike her own, which she’s glad for. Nobody else needs thirteen years of desperation carved into his hands. Nobody else needs a constant and tangible reminder of how far a person can be pushed to survive. Nobody else needs to see shadows of death criss-crossing over his worn and faded lifelines. Nobody else should be forced to recall fighting until his palms were raw and his hilt was slick with blood--

Ven notices the twitch in Aqua’s touch. Mistaking it for a slip, he holds tighter. “Careful. I’ve got ya.”

She murmurs her thanks, but her eyes are on their joined hands -- on the fingers wrapped reassuringly around her knuckles.

Since when are they longer than hers?

* * *

They all have those nights. The sleepless ones, the fearful ones, the lonely ones -- and the nightmare-filled ones. More often than not, at least one of them wanders the halls after bedtime, checking up on the other two in case waking is needed, or company, or both.

So when Aqua thrashes awake late one night, she’s not alarmed or even surprised when she bolts upright into a pair of waiting arms. On the contrary, she quickly clings back and buries her face in his chest, the sweat on her back running cold as she tries to steady her breathing.

For a long minute she’s certain it’s Terra -- the hand stroking her hair, the other holding her tight and rubbing her arm, the chin set lightly atop her head are all things he would do and has done. Only when the jarring memories of her nightmare finally fade from the inside of her eyelids -- and her heart’s no longer threatening to break out of her chest -- do Aqua’s senses finally rearrange themselves just enough for her to pick up on the discrepancy. Both Terra and Ven have very strong, very bright lights in their hearts -- but Ven’s has always been a little brighter, a little warmer, a little more similar to her own.

And that’s the one wrapped around her at present.

She pulls back, offering a small, tired laugh and trying to wipe casually at her face. “Thanks, Ven.”

He lets her do so uninterrupted, but even after the sweat and the tears are gone she doesn’t lift her head. She isn’t proud; Terra’s seen the worst of her fits, nights where she’s woken up screaming and can’t bear to close her eyes again without him close and holding her. By some stroke of luck, however, she’s avoided breaking down too badly around Ven.

“You want me to stay, Aqua?” he asks quietly. He skips right over the obvious and unnecessary _are you okay_ ; on nights like these, sometimes the only way to make things _okay_ is a silent, supportive presence. Nothing more and nothing less.

Aqua nods once. He pulls the blankets back for her, smoothing out the twisted sheets as she lies down, and then pulls them up to her shoulders. He smiles at her as he tucks her in, but there’s a knowing sadness in the look, too. He’s worried -- because he understands. He has these nights, too.

So she gives his hand a comforting squeeze as she returns the smile, doing her best to reassure him without words. She rolls onto her side, facing the window, and as per old habits she expects to feel Ven climb in behind her, to slide in close and share her pillow as he’s always done.

Tonight he doesn’t. He keeps to the left side of the bed, sitting up with his back against the headboard. It’s a tiny detail -- maybe he’s just not tired -- but she notices.

And it’s the fourth hint that he’s been growing up when she’s not looking.

* * *

Aqua stops counting, but time doesn’t wait on her anymore. By the time Ven’s seventeenth birthday rolls around, he’s drawn even with her in height; less than halfway to his eighteenth, he’s over an inch taller.

Despite having been defensive more than once about his height in the past, Ven hasn’t said anything on his growth spurt. He still has to tilt his head back slightly to look at Terra, who apparently had a little more growing to do as well, and at Eraqus, who remains taller than all of them -- but when he’s finally able to look Aqua in the eye without her bending over and then, later, finds himself looking down at her, he never says a thing about it. His body’s grown, but not his ego. That much about him hasn’t changed.

He’s still Ven, even if he’s no longer the small and frail boy of so long ago; even if he doesn’t need to crawl into bed with one (or both) of them on sleepless nights anymore; even if he’s protected them in battle just as many times as they’ve protected him; even if he’s dropped most of his playful habits from his fighting style and bears a striking resemblance to the Master in his poise; even if his strength and scars rival theirs; even if his voice is deeper, his laugh less of a boyish giggle and more of a strong, bright sound; even if his blue eyes lack the naive shine of younger years and, sometimes, bear hints of dark shadow and unspoken pain that are all too familiar; even if he’s started to go by his full name more often than not; even if he has a sudden tendency to be uncharacteristically clumsy around girls his age; even if he sometimes turns down an invitation to training because he’s made other plans.

Even if Aqua’s dropped the habit of ruffling his hair because now, thanks to a mere few inches, she thinks it could be patronizing -- he’s still Ven.

She just wonders when it became necessary to keep reminding herself of that.

* * *

These days, the three of them work alone just as often as together. They always worry for one another, of course -- those aren’t habits you outgrow, not when you’re family -- but their sendoffs are always done with smiles and jokes and easy well-wishes for a safe return. Aqua in particular has a habit that the boys have long since given into -- not that they ever objected -- and today is no different as they gather at the bottom of the castle staircase.

“Be safe,” she says -- in earnest -- and leans up to place a brief kiss on Terra’s cheek. Good luck, reassurance… It might be either, it might be both, but whatever the case it makes her feel better to offer them something a little out of the norm. Maybe it’s more like a promise -- a silent guarantee that this won’t be the last one.

She turns to Ven, who’s already humoring her by dropping his head slightly. Considering he was a foot shorter when this tradition started, she’d began with kissing his forehead, and that habit has carried up through today despite the change in perspective. Like always, she takes his face in gentle hands, and then stands up on her toes to reach him--

_He’s still Ven._

Even if the little things change, he hasn’t. He never will.

\--and then, halfway through the motion, Aqua pauses. She drops back down onto her heels, and before Ven can fully send her that curious look, she’s leaned aside to kiss his cheek instead.

Ven stares at her as she steps back, looking surprisingly… surprised. “Be safe,” she tells him. Not _Be careful_. Not anymore -- another little change in the grand scheme of much bigger things. It’s a tiny gesture, but very intentional all the same: he doesn’t need coddling now, no more than Terra does. She only regrets that it took such a drastic _outward_ change for her to realize.

Her words seem to shake Ven from his stupor and he blinks a few times, rapidly, before quickly averting his gaze. “Y-Yeah. Right. Thanks. I mean -- you, too, Aqua,” he adds quickly. Sheepishly.

It’s not like him to avoid eye contact -- or stammer. She’s fairly certain she’s _never_ heard him stammer before, actually. And is that… _color_ creeping into his face?

Terra suddenly laughs, crossing his arms as he eyes Ven with a teasing smile. “Guess you’re all grown up now, huh?”

Ven’s embarrassment -- because that’s most certainly what it is, Aqua realizes -- fades in a heartbeat. “Hey! What d’you mean _now_?”

“Or maybe not, if you’re that worked up about it.”

“I’m not worked up about anything! Stop treating me like a kid already!”

Aqua can’t help it: she laughs. And when they both turn to her with puzzled looks, she only laughs again, harder, until she can’t reply.

So much has changed, but so much more remains the same.

And she appreciates it every day that she’s alive.


End file.
